Who are you, Mini-me?
by Alder Niis
Summary: Surprisingly, I haven't seen anything like this. A girl creates her very own micro-nation. Hilarity, inevitably, ensues. Rated T for language.
1. Chapter 1- Prologue

"And thus, Wenstia, my very own micro-nation, is born!"

I wasn't really expecting much, no flare of trumpets or anything. This wasn't a big project with lots of people and funding and planning. It was a mini pet project of an Italian-British-German-Spanish-American high-school home-schooled student whose favorite uncle had died and left her with his sailboat. It was nothing.

Wait. Sorry. That was confusing. So yeah, back up. I'm Alyssa Oberti, sixteen year old well traveled high school student. Well, high school aged student. My parents are Italian, though I was born in Britain. When I was 6, we moved to inland Europe, to Germany. Languages came easily to me, though, to be fair, I was a child. After I had a good grasp on conversational German, my parents snapped me up outside of school to tutor me in languages they learned as they traveled the continent after their marriage. That naturally meant Italian, with predictable additions of Spanish and French. Then came Germanics to go along with our country of residence. That meant Dutch and Hungarian. By that time, I was ten, and we picked up house and moved to Spain.

I didn't leave behind any friends, my parents tutoring sessions along with my supposedly annoying tendency to randomly speak in other languages assured that. Spain was nice, but it was hot enough that most of my time was spent indoors. By this point in my life, I had spent so much time learning languages that I became interested in history as well. Not much was being covered in school, but I often perused the local libraries and bookstores for history books. Of course, it being 2008, with myself being 11, the internet was my main source of information. I begged my parents for several months to buy me a laptop, as my family did not actually own a computer (moving every few years, after all, made a PC quite impractical). They finally gave in and bought me one for my twelfth birthday. My grades in school plummeted at a never-before seen rate. Every teacher who knew me agreed I was a lazy, uninspired student who would end up dropping out of high school and part timing forever. Well, except my history teachers, who proclaimed I was a prodigy, and thought it was a true waste I couldn't skip a grade or three. As you could probably deduce, I spent most of my time learning new languages and studying history.

I would find myself learning a couple Nordic languages (Swedish and Danish), before moving to east European. I started with Russian, a terrible idea on my part. Staying with the same alphabet for so many languages, made Cyrillic a nigh impossible subject. I managed, somehow or another. By the time I had a basic idea of those three, I was 14. Soon thereafter, I had started on Belarusian (so as not to waste my newly acquired Cyrillic skills), and Polish. Also, a momentously awful idea. I pointedly avoided learning how to write it. Or read it. Shortly before my 15th birthday, my parents pulled me out of school, recognizing my passion for language and history and only grudging acceptance for the need of anything else didn't quite fit with standard school learning. They soon realized how far out of their depth they were and sent me away to America to live with my Uncle.

My uncle, Jason, was intriguing on a level I had never encountered before. I loved my parents, yes, but they, And every other adult I had interacted with, simply didn't _get_ kids on the level he did. Of course, this was likely a good thing, as Jason was just about the most infuriating person I had ever met. He acted like a thirteen year old at most times, and the rest, he acted eight. Well, that's a slight exaggeration, there was the odd occasion where he would act his proper age, and when I could get him to be serious, he gave great advice, and was quite smart. He helped me like no single person ever had in my pursuits of knowledge, and even helped me strengthen my skills in math and writing. I was soon declared a lost cause, though. I knew enough about writing to be able to write important documents, and enough about math to do taxes, so Uncle Jace, as he insisted I call him, stopped trying to force the information into my head. Having done that, he coached me on his own specialty, Asian languages. They were far different from any language I had learned thus far, and so I had some trouble picking them up. But, a year later, I was sixteen, and well on my way to having a preschooler's comprehension level of Hindu, Chinese, and Japanese. He often took me on his boat, and forced me to talk with him, only in one of those languages, without benefit of Wi-Fi, dictionary, or outside interpreter. Oh, how I loved him. Life was good, I had a good family, good food, fast Wi-Fi, no school, little stress, no angst. I was a well-kitted out teenager, in all regards. And then Uncle Jace died.

—End of Prologue—

Then, everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked. W-wait, why is there no strikethrough to make that actually funny.

 **Haha, well... a new undertaking, thiiiss should end well~! No, but really, I am so sorry about my other projects. I have just hit a block that I cannot get past on those two, so I've taken up some new ones. Hehehe... sorry. orz. A couple of notes really quick, before I go.**

 **I realize I have given Alyssa an absolutely insane number of languages she knows. She is** ** _not_** **a genius. I have tried to compensate by making her shaky at best in math and language arts (a hard thing to give a name to when the chapter mainly revolves around language), and let's just say there's a reason I didn't mention science. Also, she** ** _is not_** **fluent. The only ones she can even hold a conversation in are English, German, Italian, and Spanish. AKA, the ones mentioned in the beginning. The rest, she has about a preschooler's comprehension level. Still very impressive, mind. Other than that, Alyssa's father is Italian all the way through, while her mother's family is from America. Thus, Jason is her maternal uncle.**

 **Ah,** **besides this thing that you can tell what it's about, I have a Detective Conan story in the works, as well as an Avenger's one...Probably never to be uploaded, but the idea exists.**

 **Welp, Alder, out!**


	2. Chapter 2- Count Your Dead

**Heya, folks! It's Alder Niis, back with more of this thing people seem to like for some reason! Nah, really I am very grateful for the positive reception this has gotten already!**

 **Oh, yes, I forgot to say this last chapter. I do not own Hetalia. In case you couldn't tell.**

–––– Count Your Dead as the Sun Rises ––––

"We are gathered here today to mourn the passage of Jason Wendel. I know I am not alone in saying that Jason has affected my life in so many ways. Jason had a good, happy, and richly varied life, in the short time we have here this morning we can barely scratch the surface..." I tuned out the speaker as he continued his eulogy. I shouldn't have been there.

"This is stupid. Jace- _Oji_ wouldn't have wanted this." I tightened my grip on the black skirt I was wearing. My mother put a hand on my leg. I pushed it away.

"We can't know that, sweetheart." That was my father. My eyes blazed with anger. "Your uncle, he–"

"He wouldn't have wanted to _die_ , _verdammt_!" I shouted. My parents shushed me, sending weary smiles to people nearby, who glanced in my direction at the outburst.

"Honey, really, it's not that simple–" I slapped away my mother's arm, which was starting to massage my shoulders.

"You think I don't know that?" I hissed, dangerously. "Stop treating me like I'm five, _Мама_ , I'm not. I'm sixteen, I can handle it. _Why won't anyone tell me how he died?_ " My mother recoiled, shocked by my animosity. She glanced nervously at my father.

"Alyssa, honey, please, calm down." I puffed up angrily, but he continued before I could get a word in edgewise. "Jason made a lot of decisions in his life, and, not all of them were very good ones. Your uncle– he was diagnosed with lung cancer six months ago. He refused to get treatment. He– he said he didn't want to upset you."

I could not handle it. "I– I–" my voice died in my throat. How did I– _Six months!?_ Six months with _cancer_ , how could I not notice!?

–––– Flashback: Six Months Earlier ––––

 _"Say, Lysa-love, what do you think comes after death?"_

 _Again with that silly nickname. Where did it even come from? DId he think he was being clever?_

 _"How should I know, Uncle Jace, you're the philosophy nut, not me," I snorted derisively at my uncle's expense. He really was._

 _"Hey, hey, no! It's_ Japanese _today. How could you even_ get _German from that?" What? I hadn't replied in… oh. I pinked slightly._

 _"I don't know! Shut up!" I yelled, in the correct language this time. I pouted at the grin my uncle sported at_ my _expense._

 _"And besides. I'm not asking for the answer, I'm asking_ you _." I grimaced._

 _"Geh. You and your… nonsense." I replied, mostly for not knowing the Japanese word for 'bullshit'._

 _"It's not nonsense if it's true, Lysa-love," He spouted cheekily. I threw a lazy punch at him for his troubles. He caught the first and set it at my side._

 _"Gah, fine," I huffed teasingly. He laughed. "After… death, huh?" I considered the question as my uncle readjusted our course. "Well, don't know about, not-life… uh, place," God_ damn _this language I didn't know. Uncle Jace looked amused, but didn't actually tell me what the word for 'afterlife' was, the jerk. Man, I loved him. "But, guess, well, what you do while live, makes what think you in death, you know, change." He snorted._

 _"I was hoping for a bit more, honestly." I glared._

 _"I get to that, jeez," I muttered, pointedly. "Well, like, would be better if, you do lots some-important thing, or few, great-important thing?" My uncle, thankfully did not comment on how terribly I stumbled on that phrase._

 _"Hm." He intoned, and I wasn't sure if it was a bad 'hm' or a good one. "So, what about the afterlife?" I stared blankly at him. What was that word? "You said you didn't know about one, but what do you think it might be like?" Oh, was_ that _the term for it?_

 _"Well, I don't know if even_ could _be…_ afterlife _," I said, testing the new word. "If your brain controls your… self," Gah, more vocabulary, please, what is the word for consciousness? "Then, if brain dies, could not_ be _self to_ have _afterlife." Uncle Jace looked at me with an indecipherable look on his face._

 _"Hm. Interesting point." He said shortly, now in English. "When we get home, we'll practice more grammar, as well as vocabulary about death and the brain." I sighed._

 _"In all three?" I asked, tiredly._

 _"No, just in Japanese– Of course in all three, Lysa-love, who do you take me for?!" He said with false hurt in his voice. We both laughed as our boat headed back to the harbor._

––––––– End Flashback –––––––

I snapped back to the present, and felt tears in my eyes. "I– I–" I felt like a broken record. "Oh, darling," My mother tried to pull me in for a hug. I couldn't find it in me to pull away. "I'm so sorry. You'll come back to Europe with us, we live in France now, it's simply beautiful!" It was a weak topic change, and we both knew it. "No." My mother pulled away. "What?" She asked. The speaker was done with is eulogy now. "No. Nein, non, нет, nej, iie,what do you want me to say? I- I can't do it, live with you, I mean." My father opened his mouth to say something. I cut him off before he could start. "I mean, I love you, very much so, but, I just can't, not after being away for a year."

"Ally-cat," I twitched at my father's old nickname. "If you blame us for sending you away–"

"I don't, _Far_ , I never have. But, I need to stay at his house, without you. Please." My parents exchanged a short and silent conversation. "Alright," said my father. "Just, let us help provide for you. It wouldn't feel right to leave you entirely alone." I stood up and stared at them for a long minute, all too aware of the tears falling down my face. I stepped forward, and paused. My father opened his mouth again, and I collapsed into his arms. "Oh, _Far, Мама_. I love you so, so, much." He returned my embrace, and my mother joined as well. We didn't dare move, for fear we would disappear if we let go.

–––– End of Chapter One ––––

 **Hm. Well, the cancer thing was a bit trite, sorry, I couldn't see a way for it to not be. I hope the foreign words weren't too annoying/jarring. I tried to keep them unobtrusive and mostly recognisable. You guys can tell me how I did with that. (Hint hint review hint hint). The most obscure things were** _ **nej**_ **, which is no (obviously) in Swedish, and** _**Far**_ **, which is father in several nordic languages. Also, The flashback. I was trying to convey that she wasn't that great at Japanese, but I'm worried I either over or under did the mistakes. So. I have almost no clue what emancipation actually entails, so give me the benefit of the doubt, please. Man, I feel like most of this AN is apology. And yes, Lysa-love _is_ supposed to be clever, or at least very punny. Think on it, you'll get it.**

 **likikoari– Hey, a review! Thanks, you gave me warm fuzzies inside~! Although, a 'wonder' might be a bit of an exaggeration.**

 **I will sincerely try to keep up weekly updates.**

 **See ya on the flip side~**

– **Alder**


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